With A Little Help From My Vamp Friends
by OfCabbages'N'Kings
Summary: They sparkle?
1. Chapter 1: Missing

Chapter 1—Missing

"Dean, how many of those have you had?"

"I don't know. I stopped counting after like, three."

It was another late night for the Winchester brothers. They were both broke and stuck in a backwater hick town in a lousy motel. They both had been working the poker and pool tables for awhile until Dean decided to challenge another person to a drinking game. From there, Dean kept the guys coming. Sam decided to intervene when he finally seemed unable to sit upright by himself, which only took about six rounds.

As Sam pulled Dean through the door of the honky-tonk, a few weird, pale people stared after them. Sam didn't make eye contact, but Dean waved as he stumbled by and said very loudly, "Hey! Wanna come to my place?" The laughter that erupted behind them was cut off as the door slammed shut.

"Come on Sam! I could have taken on that one guy and totally whooped his ass!"

"Dean, you should hear yourself. It's like talking to you on slow mo!" Dean swaying, rubbed his drunken eyes and stared at Sam. He looked like a lost puppy.

"Let's get you into a bed." Sam gripped Dean's arm and tried to pull him around to the passenger side. Dean grabbed the driver's door instead.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"I'm driving!"

"You can't see straight. No way."

"I am!"

"You're not driving!"

"Too hell I am! I'm not as think as you drunk I am." Sam rolled his eyes.

"You'll just crash the car," Sam pointed out. Dean grumbled, but stumbled around to the other side.

"Don't screw around," he mumbled as he slouched into the passenger seat. No remark came. Dean opened his eyes, "Sam?"

No answer.

It seemed to take forever for Dean's head to turn. He stared at the empty seat beside him and looked at the open door which cold air blew in through. He dragged himself across the seat and looked down at the ground outside. The Impala's keys glinted on the ground. He picked them up and looked around.

"Sam?" he called again, looking back at the cold keys in his hand. Pulling the driver's door shut, Dean dragged himself back across the seat and got out of the Impala. "Sam!" Stumbling back to the honky-tonk, he practically fell into the door and barely made it to the bar before his legs gave out. Using the bar for support, he stared at the petite, blonde girl behind the counter.

"Back for another round?" she asked, wiping a glass out and placing it back under the counter. She flashed him a white smile.

"No," replied Dean distractedly, rubbing his thumb across the key in his hand. "Did the guy I was with come back in?"

"No," said the blonde seductively, "but my shift ends soon, and I could keep you company until he comes back."

"You don't understand!" stressed Dean. "I _need_ to find him!" He leaned over the counter some more and stared at the girl pleadingly.

"Well," snapped the girl, "I didn't know you were like _that_!" She turned away from Dean and continued to angrily wipe glasses and put them away. It took awhile for Dean's drunken brain to register the meaning of her words.

"I am not gay!"

The girl snorted. "Yeah right. If he ditches you, I can easily find you a replacement that's worth your money." Dean's mouth opened to retaliate, but as soon as he did, he felt a wave of nausea come over him. He closed his mouth and somehow made it to the door without falling dead on his face. His legs were shaking so badly that he had to grip the doorway so he wouldn't fall into the mud outside.

Once he made it outside, Dean stumbled toward the Impala in a haze. He barely got there before he fell on all fours and upchucked whatever was in his stomach. After he finished dry-heaving, Dean used the bumper of the Impala to climb back up to his feet. Everything around him had taken on a dreamlike haze to it. The street lights that illuminated the muddy parking lot seemed brighter than before, the laughing and thumping of the music coming from the roadhouse was louder too. It felt like he was floating as he pulled himself along, using the Impala as a support. Dean tried to open the driver's door, but before he could open it, everything around him went black.


	2. Chapter 2: Gone

Chapter 2—Gone

"Dean? Dean, wake up dammit! You're scaring us!"

"Mom, what if…."

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that!"

"He could be, Ellen."

"No, he's not."  
"How do you know?"

"I'm a mother, I just know."

"Please stop," mumbled a barely audible Dean.

Dean's voice sounded so far away from himself. He wasn't sure if his mouth moved when he spoke and his tongue felt like a rock inside of it. His head pounded with each pulse of his heart, letting him know he was alive, and the light stung his eyes. He tried to sit up, but only managed to roll over and vomit. A cool hand rested against his fevered skin, and another wiped his mouth. An unknown force rolled him back over and helped him sit up. Out of nowhere, water rushed into his mouth, moistening it. Dean forced his eyes open against the light and shut them fast.

"Dean, what is it?"

"The light," he replied, his voice sounded scratchy and faint. The light dimmed, and he forced his eyes open again. Through a blurry haze, Dean was able to make out three figures, two of which were sitting near him.

"Honey, can you hear me?" He nodded. Ellen's voice was muffled somewhat, but it still had that sound of seeing too many cigarettes and alcohol.

"Mom, should I go get some more blankets?" That voice was Jo's, sounding so sweet and innocent. "He's still shaking."

"I want to know what happened."--- Bobby. He sounded a little bit worried and very disapproved.

"I think we all do," said Ellen. She laid Dean back down on the bed.

"I'll go get some more blankets," said Jo, more to herself than anyone else. Footsteps clunked across the wooden floor, and a door with creaky hinges was opened and closed with a soft snap. Bobby and Ellen waited until the footsteps outside, in the hall, had faded away. Ellen pulled the blankets up to Dean's chin. Dean realized that it wasn't someone else shaking the bed, it was him.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" Ellen inquired, laying the back of her hand against Dean's forehead. "Who did this?"

"Have you been drinking, boy?" asked Bobby.

"Please, my head hurts too much for _Twenty Questions_," croaked Dean, coughing a little.

"Then that must be one hell of a hangover," stated Bobby, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. "Boy, I could just slap you. Do you know how bad it looked when we found you?"

"Let me guess? I could be in Michael Jackson's _Thriller_ video," coughed Dean as sarcastically as he could. Ellen shook her head.

"What happened? If it….." started Ellen.

"If it hadn't been for me, then you would have been back in Hell," drawled a voice from the doorway. Ellen stood up beside the cot and Dean got a full view of who was speaking. Dressed in her usual leather jacket and skin-clinging t-shirt, Ruby smirked at him as she leaned against the doorway with her arms folded.

"Thank-you," said Dean. Ruby looked shocked until he added, "bitch."

"Well," she said, with a sarcastic scoff in her voice, "looks like Mr. Grumpy-pants is back."

"Alive and in person," replied Dean, sitting up. His head didn't pound and the light didn't hurt his eyes anymore. He swung his legs over the side of the cot, but when he tried to stand, he found that his legs didn't work very well. He would have fallen over if it hadn't been for Ellen and Bobby. As they lowered him back onto the cot, Dean glowered up at Ruby, who had come to stand over him still smirking.

"When will that wear off?" he asked her.

"Not for a few days," she replied walking away from him to stare out the window. He watched her for a few minutes and then something snapped in his slow-moving brain.

"Where's Sam?" he asked, looking from Ellen, to Bobby, to Ruby. Ruby didn't look at him, Ellen looked down and fidgeted with the blankets, and Bobby was the only who answered him.

"Dean, the place you two were was a roadhouse like The Roadhouse," he informed Dean. "There were a fair bit of hunters in there and you and Sam aren't exactly very buddy-buddy with most hunters."

"So you're saying Sam was snatched by hunters?"

"Could be."  
"He wasn't," Ruby turned to look at Dean. He stared back, confused.

"Then who took him?" he asked worriedly.

"Vampyres."

Dean scoffed. Ruby raised an eyebrow, "You don't believe me?"

"Well," said Dean skeptically, "it seems a little out of whack."

"Don't believe me then," snapped Ruby sarcastically. "You're the one that met them?"

"Since when do I hang out with vampyres?"

"Since you offered one of them your bed." Dean frowned and shook his head.

"No way would I offer anything to a vampyre except a guillotine."

"You were too drugged to know what you were doing," retorted Ruby.

"So vampyres snagged Sam," interjected Ellen, looking at Ruby. Ruby slid her eyes from Dean to Ellen.

"Yes."

"Why?" asked Bobby. "What in the world could vampyres want with Sam."

"Maybe the same thing ol' Yellow Eyes wanted," said Dean, wobbling a bit as he stood up. Ellen gripped his elbow to steady him.

"To take over an army of demons?" asked Bobby skeptically, now raising his eyebrow. "That drug must have screwed your brain up, Dean." Dean hobbled, with the help of Ellen, to Ruby, who was still by the window.

"Where is this coven?" He leaned on the windowsill for support.

"No idea," she replied coolly.

She glanced and Dean and saw something like "dammit bitch" written across his face. "But before you knock my head off, you should know something," she continued, examining her fingernails. "_You_ know someone who might."

"Who?"

"Lenore."


	3. Chapter 3: Waking Up

Chapter 3—Waking Up

When Sam woke up he had no idea where he was. All he knew was that it was cold and dark, two factors that were not very promising. He rolled his neck a bit to get rid of the stiffness and then began to register his injuries. Other than a massive headache that thumped behind his eyes, he could feel no major pain. Something trickled down his arm, almost tickling it. It was warm, and Sam thought he smelled blood, but he wasn't really sure. His shoulder ached; his feet barely touched the floor. He wrapped his hand as best he could around a chain and found that it was attached to his wrists. He gave the chain a good tug to see how securely it was fastened. All he got back was the sound of clinking.

"This does not look good," he thought. "Or rather, sound good."

Suddenly, far above him, there was a creaking noise like a heavy wooden door being opened. A spot of light appeared above his head, making him look up. He looked down quickly. Looking up had made his head spin and the bright light had intensified his already immense headache. A jerk on the chain made his shoulders scream, and the whirring and clunking noise of a machine at work filled the silence in his ears. Slowly his feet left the floor, his whole weight now being supported by his wrists. His shoulders felt like they were about to be yanked out of their sockets, which would have made this whole experience even that more unpleasant.

As he ascended, Sam's ears picked up not only the sounds of a machine at work, but also voices. He prayed that from wherever those voices were coming, that it at least would kill him quickly and painlessly.

"Oh, he does look tasty."

"Mmm, I would love to have the first bite."

"Ladies, let's not sound like sluts now."

"You have to admit, Alexandria, he looks rather appetizing."

Sam was not comforted by these exchanges. Until now, he had kept his eyes closed in an attempt to shut out the light and ease his pounding head. But now he forced his eyes open, earning him an instant sting.

"Ah, he's awake." The machine stopped making noises and the ground appeared underneath his feet, barely allowing him to take the weight off of his shoulders. He blinked several times so his eyes could adjust to the light. When he was finally able to see, he saw a whole crowd of people. Some ignored him, talking amongst themselves while sipping from martini glassed filled with blood-red liquid in them. Most, however, gathered around him, looking him up and down as if he were some kind of meat in a butcher shop. Someone poked him, and another person turned him slowly from side to side, making his shoulders scream more in protest. Sam looked up to keep from looking at anything else, and saw what the warm tickle on his arm had been. A thin line of blood rolled down his arm from under where his wrist was held captive under a manacle and extended to his elbow.

"Great," he thought. "Now I'm advertising as a free lunch buffet."

"Now, settle down people," a very tall, pale man was speaking. He tapped his champagne glass with an elongated fingernail. The people quieted down and all turned to look intently at the man.

"Here, as our first selection for tonight, we have a very well-built young man. He's in his twenties and appears to be in perfect health. For those who are interested in him, we have samples of his blood here on this table. If you are interested, just form a line to receive a sample and see if he is to your taste." The man stepped off of the small that Sam was barely resting on. A few people made their way through the crowd to a table, which was off to the side of the dais.

"Blood samples," thought Sam. "That cannot be good."

* * *

"This is insane."

"I know, Dean."

"He could be dead for all I know!"

Ruby sighed. "Dean, quit it already. Sam is not dead," she said, popping a ketchup-drowned fry into her mouth. She rolled her eyes at the taste.

"How do you know?" countered Dean, glaring at Ruby from the couch. Jo leaned over him and placed a plate of pizza on the coffee table in front of him.

"Here, these'll get your mind off of him," she offered him a fry. Dean gave it the death-glare and took a bite of the pizza Jo had set in front of him.

"You didn't answer me," he said through a full mouth of pizza.

"These are like crack, covered in ketchup," said Ruby, ignoring Dean completely. She shoved two into her mouth this time and licked the ketchup off of her lip.

"Can we quit talking about your addiction to French-fries?"

"We can, when you quit worrying over little Sammy."

"You're going to need serious therapy if he's hurt."

"Oh, the tough boy act comes out at last. But as I recall, it was me who saved your ass from dying of OD," she said, licking her finger. Dean snorted as he gobbled the last bites of pizza on his plate. Ruby scrunched her nose and looked disgusted.

"What?" he asked innocently through a mouthful of chewed-up unrecognizable pizza. "Do I bother you?"

"You are a filthy bastard, did you know that?" snipped Ruby. Dean smirked and swallowed. He tried once again to stand up, but only managed to flop down when his legs gave out. Ruby smirked and took another fry into her mouth. He scowled up at her, then held his plate out to her.

"Go get me some pie bitch," he snapped. She rolled her eyes and took his plate, plopping the bowl of French-fries into his lap.

"Don't mess with my fries," she threatened, "or you'll find out that you won't be able to eat your pie." Dean watched her sashay out of the room, then grabbed the ashtray off of the coffee table.

"Don't even think about it!" Ruby yelled from the kitchen.

"Damn, how does she always know," thought Dean disgruntled, setting the ashtray back on the coffee table. Ruby waltzed back in the room and with a silly twirl, handed him his pie.

"You're pie, sir," she mimicked and set the pie on the coffee table and snatched her fries away from Dean. Dean grabbed the pie off of the table and stared at it hard, then sniffed it.

"Oh god, I didn't poison it!" said Ruby exasperated.

"Yeah, but you could have done something else to it," retorted Dean.

"Do I really have to separate you two?" called Bobby from the living room.

"No, just send Dean to the corner," answered Ruby with a smirk. Dean flipped her off.

"Oooo, do you really want to do that?" She laughed as he struggled to stand again.

"When I can finally walk," panted Dean, "you are so dead."

"So sue me."

"Honestly, nobody can think the way you two bicker," said Bobby, coming into the sitting room. He folded his arms and stared first at Dean, then Ruby.

"Dean, stop with your smart-ass remarks," said Bobby. Dean stared at him furiously, and opened his mouth to argue.

"And Ruby," continued Bobby, turning to look at the demon, "if you expect to stay in my house one more night, then you're going to stop antagonizing Dean." Ruby glared at Bobby.

"You take all the fun out of everything," she said. She dumped her ketchup laden Styrofoam bowl into the garbage and stalked out of the room. Dean rubbed his head and sighed.

"I know you're worried, but I know she'll be here," Bobby put his hand on Dean's back. Dean looked up at him.

"I know, Bobby, but I can't help but think what could be happening to Sam," said Dean, looking up at the older man. "It's almost been a week. What if they've already killed him? Or worse." He looked down at his legs and stubbornly kicked the coffee table. Bobby patted him on the back and walked into the kitchen.

"What's happening to you, Sammy?" whispered Dean to no one.

* * *

Sam thought he was going to die.

"Why don't they just kill me already?" he asked himself. He had lost all feeling in his arms a long time ago, and his stomach felt like it was twisted into knots. The pale man was still down at the table, talking intently with another pale person, this one a Barbie-doll looking blonde. She was arguing with him about something, her hands waving in the air like she was trying to do some sort of freak dance. The man shook his head, which only had her hands move harder. Finally, the man sighed and stepped back on the dais. "Barbie" folded her arms and smirked.

"It seems we have a bit of a rush going on," said the man, glancing at "Barbie". "Our first selection for tonight has already been sold." There were grumbles among the audience, but nobody said anything audible. Two men, who were about as pale as Sam, appeared on the dais and unchained him. One of them held him up while the other slowly lowered his arms. Together, the two carried Sam off of the dais. They made their way through the spectators; Sam got a closer look at the men. At first, Sam they both had some weird tattoos on the neck and arms, but the realized that the "tattoos" were actually teeth marks, like the ones Gordon had given Dean. Shaking his head, Sam had a revelation of where he had just been and who he had just been sold to.

Vampyres.

"Great," he thought, "I'm going to be a meal for a leech, or worse." He snorted. Yeah right, what could be worse?

Finally, the men stopped at a dark car. The door opened for them, and Sam was gradually lowered onto the seat. All light was lost when the door was shut. Suddenly, he felt a small prick on his arm, but because he was unable to see, he had no idea what, or who, it was. All at once, he felt very tired. Sam fought now to keep his eyes open as the rest of his body was rendered helpless.

"Shhhh," whispered a soft voice. "It's going to be all right. Sleep now, you'll feel better." An equally soft hand appeared on his cheek and caressed it. These were the last feelings Sam felt as he succumbed to unconsciousness.

When he awoke, he was floating. The bed he was laying in was so soft, he felt like he was suspended in the air. He blinked slowly a few times to truly wake up. He turned his head from side to side to get rid of the stiffness and then opened his eyes again. What he saw disturbed him. He instantly began to jerk, tugging on his sore wrists and aching shoulders again and again as he tried to release them. He stopped for a second, checking his ankles as well. Groaning, Sam continued to struggle, willing himself to be released.

"You won't come undone that easily," said the soft voice from the car. Sam looked up over his toes at the doorway. "Barbie" stood there, her arms folded.

"Sam, right?" she continued, walking into the room and coming to stand by the bed. Sam never let his eyes leave her. She ran a hand over her his leg, making him jerk, pulling the chain even tighter.

"Mmmm," purred "Barbie", "I love a man in bondage." She cackled manically as a look of horror crossed Sam's face.

"Girls?" she called toward the door, not taking her eyes off of Sam, still stroking his leg. Two other women appeared in the doorway, one a brunette and the other a redhead. They both stared at Sam with the same hungry, lustful eyes. They moved towards him, as if they were wound by a mechanical key.

"Oh, he looks yummy," cooed the redhead.

"Let's stop the chit-chat," said the brunette, sounding bored. She rolled her eyes at "Barbie". "I'm already very 'hungry'," she continued, now staring at Sam with an interested look on her face. She kneeled on the foot of the bed and began crawling up the bed onto Sam's body. Sam twitched as she touched him, but was unable to throw her off. Her hands slid over his bare chest, making him shiver. She stopped right over Sam's face and she leaned hers into his.

"Sorry, I must have left my wallet somewhere," said Sam, gritting his teeth. "I can't pay for a whore right now, let alone three."

Redhead laughed, "Oh, you won't need to."

Brunette smiled and leaned in closer still. She brushed her lips against Sam's and moved down to his neck. Sam could feel his pulse beat harder underneath his skin and hoped that she would at least snap his neck before she decided to feed.

"You shouldn't tense up," murmured Brunette, kissing his neck. "It only makes it hurt." And then she bit him. At first, Sam gasped and his body jerked uncontrollably, but then he managed to relax.

Then it happened again. This time "Barbie" bit him in his leg, right where she had been stroking before Brunette and Redhead had come in. Sam's leg pulled against the chain as she drank, but he couldn't throw her off. Redhead was the last to join. She slowly walked from the foot of the bed to Sam's head. She knelt on the bed, leaning in very close to Sam.

"I don't want to kill you yet," she whispered in his ear. "Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get another one out of this deal. I hear your brother is quite…hmmm, delectable." She laughed quietly then slid up his arm. At the junction between his upper arm and lower arm, she bit down hard. The only difference between the other bites and this one is that Sam could see the blood drip out of his arm and stain the white pillow underneath it.

"Dean, please hurry," he silently prayed as he began to lose consciousness. He didn't fight the curtain of darkness. He welcomed it.


	4. Chapter 4: Saving Sammy, I Think

Chapter 4—Saving Sammy…I Think

_Ding-dong._ For the hundredth time that day Dean wobbled toward the front door.

"Maybe you should let someone else answer," called Jo from the kitchen as he bobbed passed.

"I need to learn how to walk again," answered Dean, steadying himself, "or I'll never be able to find Sammy."

"Mmmm, well then, you might have to do that with a walker," commented Ruby as she laid down a card on the table. "Ha!" she continued, with a victory punch. "I beat you!"

"How do you lose at _Go Fish_?" asked Jo, throwing her cards down as Ruby got up and did a funny dance around the room. The doorbell rang again. Dean launched himself from the kitchen doorway and slowly edged his way down the hallway using the wall. When he got to the door, he jerked open the door and sagged with relief against the entryway.

"Wow, Dean, you look…um, well, just awful."

"Thanks for the compliment, Lenore," replied Dean. Lenore smiled and stepped inside the house.

"Here," she said, pulling his arm over her shoulder, shutting the door with her foot, "let me help you into a chair or something."

"No, no," Dean gently nudged her away. "I need to learn how to walk again."

"Yeah, or he'll be using a walker to go rescue Sammy," said Ruby, walking into the hall, grinning at the tottering Dean.

"I'm so going to bust your ass when I find Sammy," countered Dean. "And don't call him 'Sammy'!" he snapped. Ruby held up her hands in mock surrender.

"I give!" she pretended to beg. "Lenore, he's all yours!"

"If I have to come tell you two to…oh, Lenore," stormed Bobby, stopping mid-sentence. "Didn't know you were here."

"Um, I just came in the door," giggled Lenore. "I didn't get very far when these two," she indicated Dean and Ruby, "started to go at it."

"Uh-huh," grunted Bobby. He glared first at the demon, who was trying to look innocent, then at Dean, who was still clinging to the wall.

"I think you can take care of these two," said Bobby, returning his eyes to Lenore. "You have my permission to bite either one, if they rouse up anymore noise."

"Ooo, kinky," Ruby cocked an eyebrow. "Sorry partner, but I don't swing that way."

"You're a dirty enough bitch," muttered Dean.

"Stop it," sighed Bobby, exasperated. Jo came out of the kitchen.

"How do you lose at _Go Fish_?" she asked.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes carefully. He moved his arms and legs cautiously, wincing slightly when the bandages shifted.

"Well," he thought dryly, "at least I'm not tied up anymore." He sat up, but then quickly sunk back down. His head spun around and black spots danced in front of him. Laying back down, Sam closed his eyes slowly and counted silently in his head. He opened them again and let a few seconds pass before he sat up, this time more slowly. Cautiously, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested his feet on the floor. Standing up, he stumbled at first, but managed to get his legs moving across the wooden floor. He slumped against the door when he got there, tugging on the doorknob. It was locked.

"Damn," he cursed silently. "Of course it's locked, Sam. Besides, where would you go?"

"I don't know!" he answered himself. Sagging against the door, Sam blinked back tears that had surprisingly sprung to his eyes. His wounds throbbed against the bandages, a pulsating reminder of where he was and what had happened.

With each painful step, Sam dragged himself back across the room, and being mindful of his injuries, flopped down onto the bed. It wasn't as luxurious as the other one, but it was still comfortable. Rolling his head to the side, Sam saw another bed across from him. He then sprang upright in the bed and took a gander at the room.

The room was small. It was styled much like the cheap motel rooms he and his brother rented, but this room had a little class. A small kitchenette lay behind a flimsy, decorative screen; the bathroom door was off to the side of his bed. There were no windows, but curtains hung on the wall where a window might have been. Sam had no idea what to think of these things.

"Why put me in a room that looks almost exactly like the one I just left?" he asked himself out loud. "Great, now I'm going crazy," he continued.

* * *

Dean surveyed the map in front of him. He glanced at Lenore.

"Are you sure this is the right address?" he asked her. She nodded, sipping from her Styrofoam cup. He looked down at the map.

"What?" she asked.

"Um, it's just a bit…you know…fancy," he ended lamely.

"Yeah, well these girls are a bunch of hoes," she commented, drinking a long draught from her cup. He shook his head.

"Do they honestly work a street corner?" he asked. Lenore nodded.

"Used to," she replied, dumping the empty cup into the waste basket. She folded her arms and leaned against the counter. "That is, until they killed their pimp and stole his business. They worked the girls and guys for awhile before selling that project, and then continued to bring in the drug money while working as exotic dancers for awhile."

"So, they were whores and strippers," stated Dean, sitting down in a chair and cracking his knuckles. "Did they ever quit the drugs?"

"Nope," said Lenore, sitting down in the chair perpendicular to his. "But, most of the drug lords are vampyres. It makes it that much more easier to not get caught when you can just mesmerize the cops with your body."

"Or just rip out their throats," mumbled Dean. Lenore inclined her head.

"That too," she added. They both sat in silence for awhile. Dean cleared his throat.

"So what do I have to do?" he asked her, almost sounding fearful.

"Well, I could try and buy Sam, but that would take awhile," she offered.

"Why?"

"Cause they're _so_ stingy."  
"Maybe you should try a trade," said Ruby from behind Dean. Dean looked up at her, quizzical.

"That would get us nowhere," replied Lenore, now focusing her attention on Ruby. "We would all be in the same positions as before."

"No we wouldn't," stated Ruby. "Sam would be sitting where Dean is." Lenore stared at her, shocked.

"What?" asked Ruby, trying to sound innocent.

"I don't believe you. I really don't get you," sighed an exasperated Lenore as she rubbed her temples.

"Don't try to," said Dean. "Ruby's a demonic bitch who wants to take over the world." Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, that's my plan," sniffed Ruby. "World dominance. Seriously, I can't be helpful anymore."

"That wasn't helpful."

"Don't start!" snapped Lenore. "Gosh, it's so darn hard to do anything around here with you two bickering with each other."

"Exactly my point," joined Bobby as he entered the kitchen. He got a beer out of the fridge and offered one to Dean and Lenore.

"Aww, I don't get one?" Ruby pretended to whine.

"Sorry kid, must be at least thirty to drink in my house," Bobby took a swig from his bottle.

"Mhm, Dean, you can't drink that," commented Ruby.

"Fuck off."

"Feisty."

"Dean, what time can you be ready to leave tomorrow?" interjected Lenore.

"Anytime. Let's go now," replied Dean, glowering at Ruby.

"Why so early?" asked Bobby.

"So I can plan in silence," responded Lenore. Bobby nodded.

"Go get packed, Dean," Bobby kicked Dean's chair on his way out. Dean stood up. Lenore followed him.

"Be down here at six forty-five," instructed Lenore.

"So early?"

"Yeah, cause I'll still be asleep," joked Ruby as she sauntered out of the room. Lenore stared after her.

"Does she ever just walk?" she asked.

"Nope," answered Dean, "she has to make sure you see her butt as she leaves." Lenore shook her head.

"Well, I'm going to find a cheap motel to stay in," she said as she pulled on her coat.

"Why not stay here?" asked Dean, following her as she walked down the front hallway.

"I do not want to be kept up all night by you and Ruby," she stated simply.

"Do you need someone to stay with you?"

"No, Dean. Besides, Ken's with me."

"Ken? Whatever happened to Luthor?"

"Hunters got him."

"Oh. Sorry."

"S'okay, I guess. Ken's a great guy, but that's it. He's just a guy."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, nothing. He's really awesome, but he doesn't like women."

"Doesn't like…women?" choked out Dean.

"He's a homosexual, Dean," Lenore laughed at Dean's expression. "Bye Dean," she added as she laughed her way out of the door. Dean shook his head and wandered into the living room.

"Get so sleep, hon," said Ellen from the couch. Ellen's attention was caught up in the poker game before her. Jo studied her cards with an intent expression, and Ruby lazily fanned herself with hers.

"Yeah, probably should," was all that escaped Dean's mouth.

When he was upstairs and out of the shower, Dean finally felt an invisible weight crashing down on him. He stared up at the slow moving fan, even though it must be at least thirty degrees outside. He made a decision then, and wondered if his plan would work. All he needed was for Lenore to get him inside. The rest was his story.


	5. Chapter 5: How Far Would I Go?

Chapter 5—How Far Would I Go?

_On this bed I lay, losing everything._

_I can see my life, passing me by._

_Was it all too much?_

_Or just not enough?_

_Wake me up_

_I'm living a nightmare._

------_Time of Dying_, Three Day Grace

Gravel crunched underneath the tires of Lenore's car as they slowly crept their way up the long drive. Dean seemed to bounce up and down in the passenger seat as Lenore parked the car and turned off the engine.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?" she asked for what seemed like the millionth time. Dean shook his head. He opened the door and scrambled out of the car.

"You seem a bit edgy," continued Lenore. "You're not your usual self tonight, Dean." Dean said nothing, only mechanical mounted the steps to the large house. Lenore sighed and got out of the car.

"Don't come," choked Dean when he heard the door open and close.

"You can't get in without me," was all Lenore said. She grasped Dean's arm and pulled him the rest of the way up.

"Try and appear drugged," she whispered as the doorbell went off deep inside the house. Dean slumped somewhat against Lenore and put on a blank, happy face. The door opened menacingly, and in a very cliché way, creaked as it swung inward. A man appeared in the doorway, and Dean could tell he was human.

"I'm here for an appointment," said Lenore matter-of-fact like. The man blinked slowly, and his eyes slid from Lenore to Dean, who was doing his best to appear as if he had no clue where he was.

"This way, please," said the man quietly. Dean briefly wondered what the man was doing here, in a vampyre's house. It was obvious he was human. But he had no time to contemplate any of this when a pale, red haired woman appeared in a doorway.

"Oh, Lenore!" she cried as she gracefully launched herself at Lenore for a hug. Lenore stumbled a bit but managed to not drop Dean and return the hug at the same time.

"Hi, Abby," said Lenore quietly.

"You smell different," commented the women after taking a whiff of Lenore's hair. "Kind of…animalistic."

"I do what I have to do to survive," replied Lenore coldly.

"Oh Lenore, are you still keeping up with that silly _diet_ of yours?"

"I don't want to be a monster."

"We're not monsters, dear. We're just…well, we're just better than everyone else," her eyes shifted to Dean, who was still acting high.

"Well, well, well, for someone who acts so high and mighty about not hurting humans, then what do we have here?" she asked nonchalant as she circled Lenore. "He certainly looks tasty."

"Actually, I would like to speak to you in a more private setting," requested Lenore, glancing at the man who was still standing off to the side of them.

"Yes, well, Hugo, go do something useful," she commanded. Hugo bowed and left the hallway, disappearing into one of the many doors that lined the walls.

"This way," she instructed with a wave of her hand. Lenore followed her, tugging Dean along with her as they walked. Dean pretended to stumble and clomp his way down the hallway. The redhead opened two French doors and ushered them inside. She shut the doors with a quiet _snap_ and swept around to a chair that faced another two chairs. Lenore dumped Dean in one of them and sat down very daintily in the other one. He leaned over the arm of the chair and clumsily swung his arm back and forth, his hand barely brushing the floor. Abby watched him for a little while, then turned her attention to Lenore.

"So, what is so important that we need to speak privately?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"Are we alone?"

"Yes, very."

Dean righted himself as Lenore stood up.

"He wants to talk with you," she indicated Dean, who now looked very alert. The redhead looked shocked.

"Pray tell, sir, why did you act so…strange in the hallway?" asked Abby, now very aloof.

"Because I needed to get in here without you thinking something was up," replied Dean just as coldly. Abby leaned back in her chair and stared at him for a long time. Dean glowered back, not once blinking. A car started outside and spurred away from the big house.

"We can do this all day, if you'd like," said Abby, standing up and walking over to a beautiful oak desk. Dean followed her with his eyes, not moving once. She turned around, now holding a glass of brandy in her hand. She gazed intently at Dean as she took a sip.

"Would you like some?" she asked politely.

"I would like my brother back," Dean said as calmly as he could manage. Abby drained her glass and set it down behind her.

"And what will you do to get him back?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Do?" Dean looked confused.

"How fare would you go to release him?" she stated again. Dean stood up and walked over until there was barely any space between them.

"As far as I need to," he replied, gazing somewhat sexily into her eyes.

"Has this ever worked on any other women?" Abby stared back. Dean leaned in closer.

"Maybe."

"Well, maybe you should beg."

"Only if I have to."

"You keep saying, 'only if I have to'. Maybe you should _have _to."

"Okay." Dean kissed her. It wasn't just a peck on the lips. It was a blown out kiss. He pushed her up against the desk and pulled her tighter to him. She was the first to break away.

"That far," he whispered raggedly.

"Not here," she told him. Gently, Abby pushed Dean off of her and pulled him through yet another door.

"This place must be full of doors," he thought as it swung shut behind him. Abby yanked him against her and spun him around. She kissed him this time, in a way that reminded him of the girl he met at that bar in Illinois. She shoved his jacket off and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tighter. She broke away again.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you willing to go all the way for your brother?" she asked him, clutching his shirt.

"Yes," was his ragged answer. With a chest-shattering kick, Abby shoved him onto the bed. Dean lay still as she crept up him. He closed his eyes as her hands traveled up his chest. She kissed him at the junction were his neck and shoulder met. She pulled his shirt down, exposing his pentagram tattoo.

"You are so tense," she purred. Under normal circumstances, Dean would have been excited by her advances. Now he just felt sick. He turned his head to the side so he wouldn't see what she was doing, and he saw a dark stain on the white pillow next to his head.

Without warning, Dean felt teeth against his skin.

"Oh no," he thought. "Not like this."

He felt her bite him. He felt her teeth sink into his skin. All at once a burning sensation spread like wildfire from his shoulder to the rest of his body. It infected his veins, making it feel like they were writhing in protest. At first he struggled. He cried out and tried desperately to push her off, but Abby gripped him harder. Dean felt her fingernails dig into his arms, probably leaving bloody trails when she was done. Dean's struggles gradually evaporated, though the fire still ran fast throughout his body.

At long last Abby raised herself up from Dean. Black spots danced about in front of his eyes, making him dizzy. He started to see everything as if he were in a long train tunnel. He heard her say something, but the words were jumbled around in his ears so that they came out as just noise. Dean felt someone, or something, pick him up and carry him in what he was sure was a very un-patronizing position.

He must have blacked out, because the next thing he heard was Sam's voice.

"Dean? Dean!? Dean, come on, wake up," Sam's voice was very muffled in his ears. He tried to tell Sam it was all right, that he was fine, but he couldn't find his mouth. He then realized his eyes were closed. He forced them open.

The room looked almost exactly like every other motel room. He concentrated hard until he found Sam's face. Dean focused on Sam, doing his best to clear up his blurry vision.

"Sam?" he croaked. Sam looked like he had been crying. His face was etched with relief.

"Dean, you're alive," gasped Sam. That's when Dean realized Sam was practically mouth-to-mouth with him.

"Dude, please give me some space," Dean gave Sam's chest a weak push.

"Oh, uh, yeah, okay," stammered Sam as he moved away from Dean. He still sat on the same bed though.

Dean tried to sit up, but only managed to flop around on the bed.

"You've lost a lot of blood," Sam appeared agitated. He kept fidgeting, first tugging the bottom of his shirt, then cracking his knuckles. He stood up and started pacing back and forth in front of the door. Dean hoisted himself up onto his elbows and followed Sam's every move.

"What's wrong, Sam?" he asked. Sam glanced at him.

"Nothing," his answer was too clipped, sort of rushed.

"I'm usually the one pacing, Sam. Don't tell me 'nothing'," Dean stood up, tottered, then fell with a loud _thump_ on the floor. Sam rushed to his side, heaving his brother up and helping him stand.

"Sam, what happened to you?" Dean just noticed Sam's neck. He grabbed the collar of Sam's button-down shirt and ripped it open, making the buttons pop and scatter across the floor

Sam's body was covered in teeth marks. Most were a few days old, but a few were still a little fresh. Dean was sure that his arms were covered in the same manner.

"Dude, WTF?"

"I've tried fighting them Dean. That only earns me these," Sam turned around and shrugged off the rest of the shirt. Criss-crossing his back were long cuts, most of which had already scabbed over.

Dean whistled, "How did they do this?"

"Nails," Sam threw his shirt across the room. Dean's eyes instantly picked out the marks on his arms.

"Looks like you should be dead," commented Dean, sitting back down on one of the beds.

"You looked dead when you were brought in," Sam sat down across from Dean. They both sat in silence. Sam fiddled with the blanket on the bed, and Dean rubbed his bandaged neck.

"How are we going to Houdini out of this one?" he finally asked. Sam glanced up and shrugged. Dean nodded, "That's what I thought."

"It looks like we'll need outside help, but as far as I know, no one knows we're here," said Sam, sounding a bit beaten. Dean shook his head and stretched his arms. A sudden thought entered his head, making him pause.

"Sam, someone _does_ know we're here," he was talking fast now. "Lenore knows!"

"Lenore? How the hell does Lenore know?"

"She brought me here! She's supposed to be coming back to get us, but I don't know what happened."

"Maybe they killed her."

"Maybe."

Silence descended.

* * *

Dean laid down on a bed and sighed. Sam found another shirt and quietly pulled it on. The brothers didn't say anything, and Dean's snores filled the room after awhile. Sam watched him from the other bed, and in his mind he kept replaying when Dean had been brought in.

_ The door was flung open and the man that had brought Sam some clothes entered. He carried Dean in his arms._

_ "Dean!" Sam bolted from the bed to the man's side. "Dean!"_

_ "He's not dead, not yet," said the man, laying Dean on one of the beds. "Get me a bowl." Sam practically ran across the small room towards the cupboards, almost ripping the doors off of the flimsy hinges in his search. After locating one, Sam turned around to see the man leaning over Dean. It took him a second, but in a flash he was by Dean's side and throwing the guy off of Dean._

_ "Get away from him!" he cried, putting himself between the man and Dean's unconscious form. The man took the bowl from Sam and spat out blood into it. _

_ "I'm not one of _them_," spat the man. "I'm trying to save him!" Sam glared at the man._

_ "Look," explained the man. "The vampyre that bit him is not like the others. This vampyre has some kind of venom that, if left in his system long enough, turns him into one of them. I'm trying to suck it out, so that he won't be changed."_

_ "Kinda like a rattlesnake bite," said Sam, still protective._

_ "Yeah."_

_ Dean whimpered behind Sam. Sam turned around and saw his brother thrash about in pain. The man pushed Sam away and knelt by the side of the bed. Sam put the bowl on the floor next to him. He looked away and tried to ignore the sounds of what was going on in front of him. Every now and then Sam would hear the sounds of liquid hitting the bowl, and he silently prayed that Dean would be alright._

_ Finally, the man stood up and wiped his mouth._

_ "He should be fine," he told Sam. "Just do it if you need to." _

_ "Thank you."_

_ "It's all I can do."_

Sam lay down and stared at the strange swirly patterns on the ceiling. He didn't remember falling asleep, and the next thing he felt was the rocking of a being in motion. He sat up and nearly hit his head on the car ceiling.

"Sam, are you okay?" asked a voice from the front seat. Sam rubbed his head and looked to see who was talking. Lenore glanced at him.

"Are you okay?" she repeated.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. He checked around the car and found Dean snoring in the back seat. "How about him, is he fine?"

"For now," said Lenore, "but I'm taking you two to a friend of mine who's a doctor."

"You have human friends besides us?"

Lenore laughed, "No, he's a vampyre, but he's been around for awhile. He claims he's practically immune to the draw of blood."

"Is he like you?"

"A vegetarian?" Lenore looked at Sam when he coughed a laugh. "His term, not mine. And yeah, he is."

"So where is he?"

"In a small town called Forks in Washington. I figured it's the safest place for you two right now."

"Are there others?"

"Yep."

"How many."

"About eight and a half."

"Eight and a half?"

"Well, I don't think Carlisle's granddaughter counts as a fully fledged vampyre."

"Oh." Sam scratched his head. "Wait, he has a granddaughter?"

"Yeah."

"How is _that_ possible?"

"Um, well, I don't like telling other people's business. But Nessie's a real sweet girl and she's a good cook."


	6. Chapter 6: What's Up Doc?

Chapter 6---What's Up Doc?

Sam didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have, because when Lenore woke him, the car wasn't moving, and it was very dark outside.

"Where are we?" he asked sleepily.

"In Forks," said Lenore, getting out of the car. Sam looked out the window and tried to see through the darkness. Lenore opened up his door and helped him out. She already had Dean slumped against the car. Sam pulled away from her and put Dean's arm around his shoulder.

"Sam, are you sure that you want to be doing that?" Lenore hovered around them as he limped up to the house.

"Just lead the way," answered Sam through clenched teeth. Lenore mounted the steps faster than Sam. The front door opened before she knocked.

"Lenore! How nice to see you again so soon!" exclaimed a woman with caramel colored hair as she hugged Lenore.

"Hey, Esme," said Lenore, hugging the woman back, who was at least a foot shorter than she. "Is Carlisle home?" The woman, Esme, finally saw Sam, who was now struggling to stay upright.

"Yes, he is. Carlisle!" she called into the brightly lit house. A tall man appeared by her side. His eyes instantly locked on Sam. In a flash, before Sam could blink, the man was by his side.

"May I?" he asked politely, already pulling Dean away. Sam reluctantly let the blonde man carry Dean away.

"Come on, Sam," Lenore took Sam by the arm and led him forward. His eyes were still staring after the man even after he had disappeared into the bright light of the house. In a daze, Lenore helped him limp up the steps and into the light.

Inside the house, the light was dazzling. Esme waited by the couch with blankets over her arm. Lenore guided the slightly stunned Sam towards the couch and helped him onto it.

"Where's Dean?" he asked Esme as she spread blankets over him.

"Carlisle's taking care of him," replied Esme, tucking the blankets in. "You don't need to worry about him though. You need to sleep." As if on cue, Sam's eyes began to drag down, and Sam didn't fight them. As he began to drift away, a calming sensation aided him into slumber.

"Thank you, Jasper," said Lenore very far away.

* * *

The fire still raged throughout Dean, but it had dulled to an almost bearable point.

"How is he?"

"He won't change."

"His brother is so worried."

"Yes, well, he's sleeping now with the help of Jasper."

Dean groaned and the voices stopped. He opened his eyes and found everything blurry. He blinked several times before his vision cleared. Around him were three exceedingly beautiful people. They were all incredibly pale and had dark bruise like shadows under their eyes. Two were men and one was a woman. The woman had caramel colored hair and had a look of care in her face. The older man was blonde and he checked Dean out with his eyes, as if making sure things were okay. The third person only glanced at Dean, then looked at the blonde man. His hair was bronze and was sticking up like he had just woken up. All three had very strange looking eyes.

The younger man, the bronze haired one, left the room. The woman glanced at the blonde man, and followed the younger one.

"What'sgoinon?" slurred Dean, trying to sit up as the room began to spin. The blonde man made shushing noises and put a light hand on Dean's shoulder, firmly pushing him back down.

"You lost a lot of blood, Dean. You need to lie still for awhile," he said, glancing at something beside Dean. That's when Dean heard the beeping of a heart monitor.

"WhereamI?" he slurred again, feeling very hung-over. "Where'sSam?"

"You are safe, as is Sam," said the man very calm. "You'll see him in a moment." Dean blacked out, like he had at the vampyre's house. When he woke up, he heard Sam's voice.

"How long till he wakes up?" asked Sam.

"He should be awake soon, Sam," said the man from before. "You needn't worry."

"He usually isn't out like this for this long," said Sam, sounded panic.

"He lost a lot of blood, as did you, but at least you're body had time to recover."

Dean opened his eyes slowly.

"Dean," said Sam, his attention snapping onto Dean.

"Hey," croaked Dean, rubbing his eyes. He felt less nauseous and slowly he sat up. Sam jumped and helped Dean. The man moved pillows so that Dean could sit up properly.

"How are you feeling?" asked the man, checking wires that came out of Dean's shirt.

"Like shit," answered Dean. The man smiled.

"That means you're doing fine," said the man, looking at Sam. Sam smiled.

"Where are we?" asked Dean, blinking as black spots danced before his eyes.

"In Forks," said Sam.

"Is that next to Spoons?" Dean coughed. Sam laughed.

"It's near Seattle," said Sam.

"Oh."

"Well, I'll leave you two to talk," said the man.

"Yeah, thanks doc," said Sam, watching the man leave. He waited until the door swung shut completely before sitting on the bed next to Dean.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, worriedly.

"Yeah, I'll be alright," replied Dean, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. He looked around the room so that he wouldn't have to see Sam's face. Except for the beeping hospital machines, the room looked like any other bedroom. Dean saw a bag of blood hanging next to the bed and shuddered. Sam glanced at him.

"So," said Sam, "guess where we are."

"Neverland," responded Dean, fidgeting with the wires. Sam smiled.

"No, in a vampyre's house," he looked at Dean. Dean had a look of perplexity on his face.

"I thought that's what we're trying to get away from," he said, gazing at Sam.

"Yeah, um, these vampyres are friends of Lenore's," Sam looked a bit uncomfortable. Dean snorted and tugged one of the wires loose. The beeping of the heart monitor stopped.

"So what, now we're stuck in a house full of vampyres with me hooked up to a bag of blood. Yeah, I have no interest in being a blood bank right now."

The door to the room swung open, making both brothers look up at the intruder. A small girl stood in the doorway, holding a tray of food. Her copper curls swung back and forth as she fluttered into the room.

"Here ya go!" she said cheerily, setting the tray on Dean's lap. She took the wire that was dangling from his hand and stuck it back on his chest. "It's breakfast, or lunch, for both of you. I cooked it myself!" She grinned proudly.

"Did you poison it?" asked Dean, poking the food with his finger.

"Actually, Renesme is a very good cook," said Sam, glancing at the girl and smiling. Renesme blushed.

"I learned from my mom," she said, beaming.

"Nessie?" someone called from outside of the room. One of the men from earlier, the copper haired one, entered the room. Dean was shocked by how much the two looked alike. The only difference was that her eyes were a light, chocolate colored brown.

"I'm sorry, I hope she wasn't interrupting anything," he apologized, squeezing Renesme's shoulders. "I'm Edward."

"Nice to meet you," said Dean, still poking the food.

"It's okay to eat," said Edward, watching Dean roll the peas around. "She really is a good cook."

"Look, Dean," Sam picked up a fork and stabbed the chicken. Dean stared as Sam put the chicken in his mouth and chewed. Sam swallowed dramatically and set the fork back down.

"Come on Dean, or you're never going to get better," sang Renesme. She skipped around the bed and leaned on it, staring at Dean with big Bambi eyes.

"Are you trying to hypnotize me?" he asked, leaning back a bit from Renesme.

"No, silly, but I have to eat my vegetables, and so do you," she picked up the fork Sam abandoned and circled around Dean's head. "Open wide!"

"You've got to be kidding me," said Dean. Renesme took that opportunity to shove the fork in his mouth.

"Renesme!" exclaimed Edward, making a gesture to stop the girl. Renesme ignored him, clamping her hand on Dean's mouth.

"Chew," she commanded. Dean reluctantly chewed and swallowed. Renesme removed her hand and beamed at him.

"See? It's not so terrible after all!" she flitted airily from the room. Dean licked his lips and glanced at the tray.

"I think I'm going to like this place," he said, digging into the rest of the food as Sam laughed.


	7. Chapter 7: Complications

Chapter 7—Complications

Two weeks later, Sam was sitting on the couch in the Cullen's living room next to Dean. The Cullens were arranged, standing and sitting, in a spread out semi-circle in front of them. A few Native American men stood amongst them, their dark skin and shirtless-ness standing out against the Cullens' paleness.

"So.." started Dean, but he stopped, for once not being able to find the right words. The Cullens and Quileutes waited politely.

"You're saying…"started Sam, but his words died before they escaped his mouth. Dean scratched his head.

"Don't hurt yourself," said the blonde chick, Rosalie.

"That's insane," Dean finally pushed out. "Even for us, _that's_ insane."

"The truth is often hard to accept," said Carlisle like an old school teacher.

"Yeah, but _this_?" Sam waved his hands at the gathered crowd. "_This_ is pure lunacy."

"And that's coming from the walking encyclopedia of weirdness," added Dean. Sam stood up.

"If you want to leave, no one's stopping you," said Esme, putting her hand on Carlisle's shoulder. "Nothing will happen."

"Yeah, uh, I just need to talk to Dean for a minute," explained Sam, helping Dean up. "Alone." Dean nodded and the two practically bolted out of the door.

When they got outside, Dean sat down on the porch swing while Sam remained standing.

"We should leave before this goes through the roof," said Dean, pointing up.

"But you've barely recovered, Dean," pointed out Sam. "If we leave now, it may be months before you're up and running again."

"Yeah, but this ludicrousy is driving me insane!" exclaimed Dean. "Vampires that spit venom? Werewolves that are actually wolves? And let's not forget the sparkling part!"

"Dean, look on the bright side. At least they won't attack us."

"Yeah, but still. _Sparkling?_ I have to admit, that's kinda gay."

Sam shrugged, "We'll leave soon. Just not now."

Dean looked down. "I'm getting fat," he said, talking to his stomach.

"What?" Sam looked confused.

"Renesme's cooking is making me fat," said Dean, looking up at Sam earnestly. "Seriously, that girl can cook!"

Sam laughed, "You are way too hyped up on medication." He pulled Dean up. "Let's go back inside."

"Wait," Dean stopped walking.

"What?" asked Sam. Dean turned away from Sam and pulled out his vibrating phone.

"Hello?" he asked cautiously.

"Where the hell are you?" Bobby's furious voice caused Dean to pull the phone away from his ear.

"Bobby?"

"It's been three weeks, Dean! Me and Ellen thought you two had died."

"No, Bobby, no, we're fine…"

"Fine! _Fine!_ Here we are, thinking you're dead and wondering how to find your bodies, and all you can say is _fine_!"

"Bobby!" Dean yelled into the phone. "Bobby! Listen to me! Sam and I are leaving soon. I need a few more days to…" he dropped the phone and fell to the ground, writhing in pain and gasping for air.

"Carlisle!" yelled Sam into the house.

"Sam? Sam, what's going on?" Bobby's voice emanated from Dean's cell and Sam shut it to keep him from hearing anything else. Carlisle appeared beside Sam and grabbed hold of the thrashing Dean. With one hand, Carlisle held Dean down and the other he ripped off the bandage around Dean's neck. He leaned in fast and bit Dean right on the teeth marks that were already there. Dean yelled and tried to push against Carlisle.

"Sam!" he cried. "Sam!"

"I'm right here, Dean," replied Sam, gripping one of Dean's shaking hands. "I'm right here."

"Make it stop, Sammy," sobbed Dean. "Make it stop."

"Soon, Dean. It'll be gone soon," said Sam, assuring himself as much as he was assuring his brother. Dean's struggles lessened and his sobbing quieted. After watching his brother writhe in pain, calling for him the whole time, Sam felt like crying. A warm hand appeared on his back, rubbing circles as Dean's limp body was picked up and whisked away.

"It'll be okay, Sam," said Renesme, sitting next to Sam. "Dean'll recover." A river of tears etched their way down his face. Sam buried his head in the crook of his elbow and let the tears fall. Far away, a phone vibrated against the wood. Someone answered it.

"Hello?" asked a soft, musical voice.

"Who is this?" demanded Bobby from the other side. "Where in the hell is Dean?"

"Dean can't talk right now," said Alice.

"Where is he? Where's Sam? _And who the hell is this!_" roared Bobby.

"I'm sorry, your minutes are up," replied Alice coolly. She snapped the phone shut. Sam raised his head to look at her.

"He's very rude," stated Alice.

"He's worried," countered Sam, standing up. Carlisle appeared on the porch.

"The venom is almost gone," he told Sam. "Dean will be fine soon." Sam nodded.

"Good, cause I think someone's going to kill us," joked Sam, taking Dean's phone from Alice.

* * *

Bobby tossed his cell phone onto the table. It slid across the surface and clinked against an empty bottle.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Ellen, first looking at the phone, then looked at Bobby.

"We're going after those boys," said Bobby, picking his jacket up.

"We don't even know where they are," said Ellen, standing up.

"Yeah, but I know someone who will, and I'll be damned if she can't find them," replied Bobby as he walked out the front door.


	8. Chapter 8: JailBait

Chapter 8—JailBait

_She's a rebel._

_She's a saint._

_She's a soldier of the earth and she's dangerous._

_She's a rebel._

_Leaves you empty._

_Missing link on the brink of destruction._

_From Chicago to Toronto_

_She's the one that they call "Oh, whatsername."_

_She's a symbol of resistance._

_And she's holding on my arm like a hand grenade._

----_She's a Rebel_, by GreenDay

The club was aglow with flashing lights and glow sticks. A mass of people writhed in a pit in the floor. The music thumped loud, making the glasses and bottle rattle behind the counter. Once inside, Bobby and Ellen stuck out harshly against the other younger attendees. Their rough clothes and scuffed boots were enough to make heads turn in this place, but adding their ancient looks to the equation, more than a few whispers burst forth at their appearance.

"What is with _that_?" asked one girl who was covered in tattoos.

"I dunno," replied her drunk friend, blinking suspiciously at Bobby and Ellen. "Maybe they're cops?"

"Uh-uh," the tattooed girl shook her head. "Nope, cops would _at least_ try to blend in." Her drunk friend swung her head up and down and the two of them disappeared into the pit.

"I guess that's where this place gets its name from," assumed Ellen, pointing at the hole in the floor.

"Yeah, _The Pit_," agreed Bobby, scratching his beard.

"I thought you said this girl was under twenty-one," said Ellen as they walked up to the bar.

"She is," was all Bobby said as he repeatedly scanned the room.

"Then how come she stays here?"

"I don't know. Maybe cause nobody will look for her here," replied Bobby. He knocked on the bar's countertop.

"What," barked the beefy man behind the counter.

"We're here to see JailBait," answered Bobby. The beefy man rubbed his arm.

"She don't see just anybody," barked the man again. "I gotta have some kinda proof you the type she sees." Bobby grunted, but reached under his shirt and pulled out the necklace full of charms. Ellen pulled her sleeve up and showed the man her bracelet. The man examined both and then shook his head.

"She always sees the weird ones," the man signaled some skinny dude at the other end of the bar, his many chains and piercing jingling, scurried like a cockroach over to him.

"I'm taking them in the back," barked the beefy man at the stick man. The stick man nodded vigorously. "Don't do anything stupid," adding the beefy man before he waddled out from the other side of the bar. The stick man nodded again, his chains swinging dangerously from side to side. Bobby and Ellen followed the beefy man behind a door and down a hallway. In the confined space, the man turned sideways and motioned for them to go up the narrow steps. After squeezing around him, Bobby and Ellen walked cautiously up the steps, unsure what to expect.

At the top of the stairs, a curtain hung in place of a door and they could here footsteps on the other side. Bobby raised his hand to knock on the doorframe when the curtains were swept aside, revealing a young girl with electric blue hair.

"Bobby?" she asked, leaning forward to stare into Bobby's eyes. "Yes, it's you. Come in! You can come in too, Ellen," the girl added as she pushed the curtains back farther. Hesitantly, Ellen followed Bobby behind the curtains, which swung shut as she stepped into the room.

"Soooooo," the girl said, seeming to move too fluid for a human. "Ya'll here cause you want to find someone, right?"

"Yeah, "answered Bobby, "but you already know who, right?"

"Yep," the girl kept moving in her strange fluid motions, never stopping too long at one place. "And I know where they are. Thing is, will I tell you?"

"I would hope so," spluttered Bobby. The girl smiled and reached into a drawer. Her hand froze halfway into the draw, her expression blank. She grimaced and withdrew her hand, placing it instead on her forehead. Her other hand joined it, forming a sort of shade around her closed eyes. Behind their lids, her eyeballs danced back and forth and around and around. Ellen made a motion towards her, but Bobby stopped her.

The girl lowered her hands. Her eyelids flicked up, her irises facing the back of her skull. They flicked forwards to the front and the girl blinked.

"What did you see?" asked Bobby tentatively.

"Pain," answered the girl in a robotic voice. "Dean's in pain."

* * *

Sam clasped his hands over his ears.

"It's almost gone, Sam," said Alice quietly beside him as she maneuvered her chess pieces around Edward's. "He's almost healed."

"Will it ever go away?" asked Sam as Dean let out another scream. He screwed up his eyes as if he were having a vision.

"In time," replied Edward. "If we had let the venom spread, then he would be like us right now. However, Carlisle wants to give him a choice."

"No, no, no!" pleaded Dean as he screamed again. "No! Stop! STOP!"

"Goddamitt," hissed Sam, "I can't listen to him go on."

"Here," Bella appeared by his shoulder, keys dangling over him. "Take my car and go somewhere." Sam took the keys and almost ran to the garage. He quickly located Bella's blue truck and wretched the door open. The truck started without a protest and Sam roared away from the house and away from Dean's screams.

He had no idea where he was going, just that he needed to get away. He finally stopped in the parking lot near the ocean. He was on the Quileute reservation, La Push. He got out of Bella's car and followed his feet down the coast line. A few brave people played on the beach, and fewer brave people actual ventured into the icy water.

"Sam!" He looked up as someone called his name. Renesme and Jacob were loping towards him, Renesme waving her small hand in the air.

"Sam!" she called again as they neared him. Sam stopped walking and waited for them both to stop.

"What is it?" he asked, his stomach clenching. "Is it…"

"No," said Renesme, shaking her bronze waves. The wind picked up and it snagged their clothes, making them wave like banners in the air. Sam and Renesme zipped their jackets up, and Jacob buttoned his flannel shirt over his bare chest.

"Dean's fine," continued Renesme. Jacob caught her flying hair and wrestled it into a ponytail. "No, Alice had a vision."

"Why should that concern me?" Sam's stomach unfurled. "Unless…" he let that thought fly away with the wind.

"Storm's coming," muttered Jacob, glancing at the darkening sky. The wind picked up as if on cue, now starting to whine slightly through the trees. The people on the beach and in the water abandoned what they were doing and ran for the safety of their cars. The water turned a blackish-green and began to roil, crushing the beach underneath its heavy waves.

"No, Dean _won't_ change," carried on Renesme, hunkering down into Jacob's arms. "It's something else. She saw the house burning, and two people…"

"Sam? Sam!" voices from behind them made Renesme pause and her eyes widened.

"Those two people!" she hissed, indicating someone over Sam's shoulder. Jacob pulled her closer and growled quietly. Sam turned around and saw who the voices belonged two.

A gruff looking man and drawn out looking woman approached them. Trailing not so far behind them was a teenage girl, her bright blue hair hidden underneath the red hood of her jacket.

"Bobby," whispered Sam, letting the words whoosh away in the wind.

"They…they killed us all," mumbled Renesme, shrinking a bit.

"Jacob, take her to your house. I'll deal with them," grunted Sam, turning now to face Bobby and Ellen. He heard Jacob walk away, still holding Renesme against him.

"Sam," said Ellen, throwing her arms around Sam. Sam hugged her back hesitantly.

"Where the hell have _you _been?" asked Bobby, pulling Sam into a hug after Ellen let go. "I thought you were dead."

"Ah, well, sorry to disappoint, but it seems I'm still alive and kicking," joked Sam.

"Sam," whispered Ellen. Her shaking fingers reached up to Sam's neck and she slowly traced one of the circle of teeth mark scars. "Sam," she whispered again, then stopped.

"Sam, where's Dean?" asked the blue haired girl.

"I don't know you," said Sam, pulling Ellen's fingers off of his neck. "So it's none of your business."

"JailBait's the way we found you, Sam," said Bobby. Sam forced a laugh.

"JailBait?" he asked, incredulous. "What happened? Were your parents drunk when they named you? Or high?" The girl, JailBait, smiled a very nasty smile.

"Neither, I named myself," JailBait dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand. "_My_ parents have been dead for awhile. Been living on my own most of my life. Big Rob took me in some time ago, said I could live in the upstairs rooms of his club is I didn't act stupid and did good in school."

"Well, guess that explains the hair," Sam pointed toward her hooded hair.

"It's just a wig," sniffed the girl. "My real hair is…well, I'm not telling."

"Okay," interjected Bobby. "Okay. Sam, JailBait's a psychic. She saw you and Dean in trouble."

"Okay," countered Sam, "but just cause _she's_ psychic _does not_ mean she knew where we were."

"She's also the best damn tracker since Ash," said Ellen, putting her hands on JailBait's shoulders. "It wasn't hard for her to figure out your location."

"Where's Dean?" asked JailBait again, crossing her arms.

"Safe," answered Sam. Rain began to fall heavy, fat, stinging drops.

"Sam, Dean was screaming in her vision. Is he alright?" asked Bobby cautiously. Sam hesitated.

"Yes," he finally answered.

"Don't lie to me boy," hissed Bobby. Sam's phone rang. He turned away from them as the rain began to fall harder.

"Yeah?"

"Sam," said Alice on the other side. "Sam, please, please, _please_ tell me they're not coming."

"They won't be able to find you," answered Sam, now walking back to Bella's car.

"Dean's asking for you," said Carlisle this time. "You should come back now."

"Yeah, I'm on my way," Sam shut the phone. He didn't look back, only got into Bella's car.

"Sam!" yelled Bobby. "Sam! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"To get Dean!" Sam yelled back, roaring away as the sky opened up, and the rain fell down in sheets down, soaking whatever wasn't already wet.


	9. Chapter 9: Leaving

Chapter 9—Leaving

Sam was glad that the Cullens liked fast cars.

Over the rain pounding on the roof of Bella's car, Sam heard Bobby start up his El Camino and take off after him. Sam watched Bobby in his mirrors and soon realized that Bobby was going to follow him. So Sam put the pedal to the metal, and Bella's car shot off like a rocket. Bobby was soon lost behind him.

"Dean," he thought, "we have to leave."

* * *

"Where's Sam?" Dean's eyes followed Carlisle around the room.

"He went out for a minute," replied Carlisle.

"You said that an hour ago," Dean coughed. Carlisle's eyes flicked onto him.

"Does your chest hurt when you cough?" asked Carlisle, standing over Dean. Dean grunted and yanked the covers off his leg.

"No, you cannot get out of bed," Carlisle made a move to put Dean back in bed.

"Get off me!" snapped Dean, shoving Carlisle away. The only problem with that was that when Dean pushed Carlisle, he might as well have been pushing a cliff. Carlisle, however, backed off, stepping back from Dean just enough so that he could catch him if he fell.

Using his arms, Dean heaved himself up to a standing position. His legs felt wobbly, and he stumbled towards the door, catching himself on the doorframe. All the while, Carlisle stood patiently behind him. Grunting, Dean pulled himself upright, using the doorframe as support. Clutching the wall for support, Dean noisily staggered down the hallway. He paused at the top of the stairs. In a wild movement, Dean made a grab to try and transfer his balance to the rail, but instead he flailed, arms wheeling, and promptly rolled down the stairs.

He hit the bottom with a loud crash. Shaking his head, he observed Carlisle standing at the top of the stairs.

"See? I _can_ walk," gasped Dean, pulling himself upright with the rail.

"Indeed," Carlisle appeared beside him. "How about I help you 'walk' to the couch."

"Why not," Dean allowed the doctor to half carry him to the couch. Carlisle set Dean down and then sat down next to him.

"Let me check," he said, pulling Dean's shirt down. Carlisle poked around at the bandage, lifting it up at random spots, checking for something.

"What exactly are you looking for?" asked Dean, trying to look at what Carlisle was doing.

"Infection, mostly," Carlisle answered, his voice sounding far away. Dean stopped himself from gripping the man's shirt.

"Shit," he thought, "it's happening again." And it did happen. Dean went rigid, and he gasped as a fire suddenly flared inside his veins. He bit his lip and fell of the couch, hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. His hand went to his shoulder, and he had to stop himself from screaming.

"Damn." It was the first time he heard Carlisle curse. He felt Carlisle's knees on either side of his hips, and Dean would have laughed if it didn't hurt. He could feel Carlisle's swift fingers pulling the bandages off, but he wished he couldn't feel Carlisle's teeth.

Carlisle's teeth were cold and hard. They felt merciless against his skin, and Dean tried to repress the instinct to push Carlisle away. The instinct won the fight. Thrashing wildly, Dean pushed and shoved against Carlisle. Carlisle caught his wrists and forced Dean to lie still. Tears fell from Dean's eyes as his vision blurred, but for the first time, Dean could feel the fire leaving. Usually, the fire dulled to a point where he could tolerate it, like sunburn. But now, he could feel the fire disappearing all together. He smiled.

Carlisle released Dean's wrists and sat up. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back into place.

"Ummmm," came a sound from the doorway. Dean twisted his head to see Sam standing in front of them.

"Oh, hey, Sam, I didn't mean to scare you," Dean tried to sit up, but his head began to spin.

"Temporary loss of blood," informed Carlisle, helping Dean stand. Dean stumbled when Carlisle stopped supporting him. "It'll pass."

"So, does that mean we can leave now?" asked Sam, agitated.

"Wait now, hold on," Dean put his hands up. "What do you want to leave now for?" Sam wouldn't answer Dean. He wouldn't look at Dean at all.

"Sam," Dean's voice became harsh, demanding. "Who's here?"

"Bobby, Ellen, and…some girl," listed Sam, still not looking at Dean.

"Some girl?" asked Dean.

"I don't know who she is. But she's strange. Very strange." Sam shrugged.

"What do you mean by strange?" Dean sounded a little panicked

"Bobby said the girl's a psychic," Sam glanced at Dean. Dean swore.

"No wonder they showed up, Bobby probably asked her to find us," Dean began to pace. Somewhere, amidst their conversation, Carlisle had slipped off.

"We have to leave," he concluded after several seconds.

"Why?" asked a small voice from behind them. The two brothers turned in unison to face the speaker.

"Why?" asked Esme, her beautiful face full of hurt. "Is something wrong?"

"There are other hunters on the way," explained Sam.

"We just don't want to see you all wiped out," said Dean.

"Let them come, we can fight them," snarled Emmet. Dean glared at him.

"These two happen to be the only family we have left," he snapped. Emmet looked a little ashamed. Esme put a hand on his arm.

"Emmet didn't really mean any harm," said Esme fondly. "It's just…well…we don't want to see you leave."

"Yeah, well, Sam and I don't want to see you burn," countered Dean. Esme looked crest fallen.

"Couldn't you just tell them that you're alright?" she asked, hopefully. Dean shook his head.

"No," he said. "Bobby would have wanted to make it clear that we are okay, and not held captive somewhere by something." Esme nodded, crestfallen.

"Here," said Alice, appearing by Dean. She handed him his phone.

"Wha…what were you doing with this?" asked Dean, holding the phone closer to his face.

"Nothing, just programmed all of our numbers into them," replied Alice coolly.

"Oh, um, thanks," said Dean, looking embarrassed for once. Sam cleared his throat.

"Let's go, Dean, before Bobby and Ellen show up," he said, heading to the door.

"Well, come back and visit!" exclaimed Renesme, who appeared in the room with Jacob not far behind her.

"Whenever we're in the neighborhood," said Dean, smirking. Renesme smiled.

"You better," she threatened. Sam nodded and pulled Dean out of the house.

Through the front of the house, they could still see the Cullens standing around in the living room. Sam made to get in the driver seat, but Dean pushed him out of the way.

"I'm driving," he huffed. Sam threw him the keys.

"Whatever, let's go," said Sam, getting in on the passenger side. Dean started the Impala up, and together, the two brothers drove away from the vampyres.


	10. Chapter 10: Author's Note

Author's Note

This fan fiction, _A Little Help from my Vamp Friends, _is going to be the first of hopefully many. Most of my fan fics will be about Supernatural, but some will also be about Narnia, Harry Potter, Twilight (much as I hate to say that), and whatever else I come across that I want to do.

You can also look at some more of my "fan" stuff on YouTube. My username is RandomCrazinessness. Just type "Power Ninjas RandomCrazinessness." Should be the first one on the page. If you cannot find it by yourself, I will be posting a link on my page thingy whenever I can find time to do it.

THANK YOU PEOPLES!

I say that, mostly because I want to thank anyone and everyone who is reading my fan fics. =D You guys make my day when you read and review.

I also want to thank my wonderful English teacher, Mrs. Jones, for editing (?) my papers and putting up with my many misplaced commas. ^_^ Thank you Mrs. Jones! Hopefully, she can edit the rest of my fan fics!

3 Keep reading!

/_^

Note: The Ruby in this story is the blonde Ruby. I liked her, she wasn't such a bitch.


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